


Mornings are Made for this.

by Daisysmartheart



Series: Life after the game. (Post Highschool Edition) [1]
Category: New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Breakfasts, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Implied Fuyupeko (Danganronpa Series), References to 3-2 (New Danganronpa V3), References to 3-3 (New Danganronpa V3), References to Alcohol and Bars, parent friends, sleepy mornings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-30
Updated: 2020-03-30
Packaged: 2021-02-22 23:07:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,011
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23401855
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Daisysmartheart/pseuds/Daisysmartheart
Summary: Typically, mornings are quiet and calm. Less so in this strange home, but still peaceful.
Relationships: Iruma Miu & Amami Rantaro & Shinguji Korekiyo, Oma Kokichi & Tojo Kirumi, Shinguji Korekiyo/Tojo Kirumi, Tojo Kirumi & Yonaga Angie, Yonaga Angie & Shinguji Korekiyo
Series: Life after the game. (Post Highschool Edition) [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1683370
Comments: 1
Kudos: 18





	Mornings are Made for this.

**Author's Note:**

> as always I apologise to my fe mutuals but I can't help what my mind chooses to focus on. this was stewing for twi days at nearly 2 am so uhh if it seems even dorkier and more like pure dumb fluff that's why. only did uhhh three or four hours of proofing so. whoops.

Waking up to hair in her mouth was not exactly the way Kirumi wanted to start her morning. Or with it wrapped around her shoulders. Or thighs. Such was fate, when you choose to be with a person with long hair she supposed.

The rest of those initial moments were perfect though. Tucked together, the comforter hadn't been thrown off in the night, no night terrors. 

Both of them had fallen into a pattern of waking up at least three hours before any work had to be done, and due to trade work and grants being harder and harder to come by the more Ultimate students entered the workforce the less work they could find. They weren't poor by any stretch of the imagination, the Killing Game Simulator compensation and the subsequent court hearings had made it so they could rest on their laurels if they so wished. But the seventy-ninth class was by no means known for their complacency.

Ugh. The blue-lit clock was showing it was still only seven in the morning. Damnable schools getting her into a pattern. Knowing that Kokichi wouldn't be making his daily call for nearly another three hours, it'd be fine to stay in bed for a little. Eventually she'd have to get up and make breakfast, it was her turn after all. And who knew what time he went to sleep, last she knew it was ten at night and Rantaro had roped both Kiyo and Miu into a call with him about some new technology he had found. Why he had dragged an anthropologist into a call about modern technology she would never understand, but he had. She'd walked into their shared room and shut the door and never knew when they finished. It'd have to have been late if he wasn't already up.

Slowly the minutes ticked by and it was seven thirty. Detangling herself from the web of hair and shrugging on a robe left hanging on a chair she took a minute to appreciate her sleeping lover. It was one of the only times she saw him this peaceful and every day she saw him feeling that comfortable to be so vulnerable around her she fell more in love.

They had only been together for a few months and only after a shove in the right direction from their "children." However, some part of her knew this was a familiar sight, as if they'd been with each other for years.

Oh she dreaded introducing her little "family" to her parents, what with them being ex-mafia who would most likely not hesitate to threaten a hit should she be harmed in any way. She loved them, she really did, but it was tiring at times. Her parents had met Kokichi already, years ago before an event she wasn't even sure was real. She was only ten at the time, most of that time was a daze to her twenty three year old self.

She was originally to inherit the house and family name, but when her acceptance letter from Hope's Peak arrived the inheritance was passed to a cousin, her parents didn't want her to give up on a life that would be rough but rewarding for one that would ultimately take her down a path that could lead to her own demise. In the end they had failed to protect her, her own instincts had led her to kill in cold blood and her mangled corpse the result.

As much as it felt cathartic to think on her own troubles and debate internally when to introduce everyone, breakfast took priority. Angie came sporadically but always before nine am, better to prepare early than not be ready for a third. Thankfully, the peppy woman had called the night before this time, and nearly an hour later, just as Kirumi sat the last of the plates on their cobbled together table that in truth was intended for two or three people but once had been pushed to holding seven people after a particularly bad twenty first birthday gone awry because some bitch had tried to flirt with Kokichi, leading to a rather swift (and rather drunken) slap from Shuichi. It was a miracle they had been allowed back. But yes, just as she had finished Angie had fished out her spare key, the lock tumbling as she entered the apartment. "Hello Rumi! Where's Kiyo? He promised we'd watch that horrible art documentary Kiibo got for Shitty Santa!"

Tending now to the butter and milk, she gestured wildly toward the direction she thought the bedroom was and replied, "Still asleep I'm afraid. Blame Rantaro. Heaven knows how long he and Miu kept him up last night."

Angie's signature laughter filled the room as she followed a route she knew all too well to wake up her friend. Even now, one had to wonder how they were so close after the simulator, and to put it bluntly, after a horrendous incident in their first year as a real class had shaken everyone to their cores the two glued themselves to each other, desperate for someone who understood their pain. Angie had revealed that all her talk of God in the simulator and those first few months outside of it were all fake, inspired by parents who had belittled and scorned her throughout childhood. As such, when those five children were passed to them all to help as a class she attached so quickly to Jataro. He'd been through the same.

The door slid open, a flash of yellow. Thud, crash. "Angie. Five seconds before I start screaming. What the hell are you doing."

This chaos was every day for the two of them, but neither of them would have it any other way. Friends and family near and far, lives to live and people to love made every hard part that much more worth it, just for these moments of domesticity. Every day was a challenge in it's own way, but they'd face it together. The class that fought together stayed together, forever.

**Author's Note:**

> a kind letter to taggers and writers: please write more platonic kiyo and angie so I don't have to manually tag it every time. Thank you.


End file.
